The bread got colder as it sat in the fridge. With contempt for the other food items the bread seethed. It had just been baked two days previous. Ornery from the start this particular marble rye took no joy out of being sliced into pieces and then being eaten alive. Maybe it was all that yeast that made our friend the way he was.

Can you get out my git
I’m gonna have a fit
Gone is my loosened mit
I’m a goner this time around

Do you sound like this or that
Can you make sound in a hat
Where do you keep yr fat
I’m sorry but I’ll never get you